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THE LIFE 



AND 



PUBLIC SERVICES 



GEN. WILLIAM 0. BUTLER, 



BY 



FRANCIS Pf BLAIR, 



! WITH HIS LETTERS AND SPEECHES ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 



BALTIMORE: J 

PUBLISHED BYN. HICKMAN, 

1848. 



E 



THE LIFE 



AND 



PUBLIC SERVICES 

OF 

GEN. WILLIAM 0. BUTLER, 

Of Kentucky. 



In memoirs of individuals of distinction, it is usual to look back to their 
ancestry. The feeling is universal which prompts us to learn something 
of even an ordinary acquaintance in whom interest is felt. Jt will in- 
dulge, therefore, only a natural and proper curiosity to introduce the sub- 
ject of this notice by a short account of a family whose striking traits 
survive in him so remarkably. 

General Butler's grandfather, Thomas Butler, was born 6th April, 1720, 
in Kilkenny, Ireland. He married there in 1742. Three of his five 
sons who attained manhood, Richard, William, and Thomas, were born 
abroad. Pierce, the father of General William O. Butler, and Edward, 
the youngest son, were born in Pennsylvania. It is remarkable that all 
these men, and all their immediate male descendants, with a single ex- 
ception, were engaged in the military service of this country. 

The eldest, Richard, was lieutenant-colonel of Morgan's celebrated 
rifle regiment, and to him it owed much of the high character that gave 
it a fame of its own, apart from the other corps of the revolution. The 
cool, disciplined valor, which gave steady and deadly direction to tlie 
rifles of this regiment, was derived principally from this ofiicer, who de- 
voted himself to the drill of his men. He was promoted to the full 
command of a regiment sometime during the war, and in that capacity 
commanded Wayne's left in the attack on Stony Point. About the year 
1790, he was appointed major-general. On the 4th of November, 1791, 
he was killed in Gen. St. Clair's bloody battle with the Indians, His 
combat with the Indians, after he was shot, gave such a peculiar interest 



to his fate, that a representation of liimself and tlie group surrounding 
him was exhibited throughout the Union in wax figures. Notices of this 
accomphshed soldier will be found in Marshall's Life of Washington, 
pages 290, 311, 420. In Gen. St. Clair's report, in the American Museum, 
Volume XI. page 44, appendix. 

William Butler, the second son, was an officer throughout the revolu- 
tionary war, rose to the rank of colonel, and was in many of the severest 
battles. He was the favorite of the family, and was boasted of by this 
race of heroes as the coolest and boldest man in battle they had ever 
known. When the army was greatly reduced in rank and file, and 
there were many superfluous officers, they organized themselves into a sep- 
arate corps, and elected him to the command. General Washington de- 
clined receivhig this novel corps of commissioned soldiers, but, in a 
proud testimonial, did honor to their devoted patriotism. 

Of Thomas Butler, the third son, we glean the following facts from 
the American Biographical Dictionary. In the year' 1776, whilst he was 
a student of law in the office of the eminent Judge Wilson, of Philadel- 
phia, he left his pursuit and joined the army as a subaltern. He soon 
obtained the command of a company, in which he continued to the close 
of the revolutionary war. He was in almost every action fought in the 
middle States, during the war. At the battle of Brandywine he received 
the thanks of Washington on the field of battle, through his aid-de-camp 
Gen. Hamilton, for his intrepid conduct in rallying a detachment of re- 
treating troops, and giving the enemy a severe fire. At the battle of 
Monmouth he received the thanks of Gen. Wayne for defending a defile, 
in the face of a severe fire from the enemy, while Col. Richard Butler's 
regiment made good its retreat. 

At the close of the war he retired into private life, as a farmer, and 
continued in the enjoyment of rural and domestic happiness until the 
year 1791, when he again took the field to meet the savage foe that me- 
naced our western frontier. He commanded a battalion in the disastrous 
battle of November 4, 1791, in which his brother fell. Orders were 
given by Gen. St. Clair, to charge with the bayonet, and Major Butler, 
though his leg had been broken by a ball, yet on horseback, led his bat- 
talion to the charge. It was with difficulty his surviving brother. Cap- 
tain Edward Butler, removed him from the field. In 1792 he was continued 
in the establishment as major, and in 1794 he was promoted to the rank 
of lieutenant-colonel commandant of the 4th sub-legion. He command- 
ed in this year Fort Fayette, at Pittsburg, and prevented the deluded in- 
surgents from taking it — more by his name than by his forces, for he had 
but few troops. The close of his life was embittered with trouble. In 
1803 he was arrested by the commanding general (Wilkinson) at Fort 
Adams, on the Mississippi, and sent to Maryland, where he was tried by 
a court martial, and acquitted of all the charges, save that of wearing his 
hair. He was then ordered to New Orleans, where he arrived, to take 
command of the troops, October 20th. He was again arrested next 
month : but the court did not sit until July of the next year, and their 
decision is not known. Colonel Butler died September 7, 1805. Out 
of the arrest and prosecution of this sturdy veteran, Washington Irving 
(Knickerbocker) has worked up a fine piece of burlesque, in which Gen. 



Wilkinson's character is inimitably delineated in that of the vain and 
pompous General Von PofFenburg, 

Percival Butler, the fourth son, father of General William O. Butler, 
was born at Carlisle, Pennsylvania, in 1760. He entered the army as a 
lieutenant at the age of eighteen ; was with Wasliington at Valley Forge ; 
was in the battls of Monmouth, and at the taking of Yorktown — being 
through the whole series of struggles in the middle States, with the troops 
under the commander-in-chief, except for a short period when he was at- 
tached to a light corps commanded by La Fayette, who presented him a 
sword. Near the close of the war, he went to the South with the Penn- 
sylvania brigade, where peace found him. He emigrated to Kentucky in 
1784. He was the last of the old stock left when the war of 1812 com- 
menced. He was made adjutant general when Kentucky became a State, 
and in that capacity joined one of the armies sent out by Kentucky dur- 
ing the war. 

Edward Butler, the youngest of the five brothers, was too young to 
enter the army in the first stages of the revolution, but joined it near the 
close, and had risen to a captaincy when Gen. St. Clair took the com- 
mand, and led it to that disastrous defeat in which so many of the best 
soldiers of the country perished. He there evinced the higiiest courage 
and strongest fraternal affection, in carrying his wounded brother out of 
the massacre, which was continued for -miles along the route of the re- 
treating army, and from which so few escaped, even of those who fled 
unencumbered. He subsequently became adjutant general in Wayne's 
army. 

Of these five brothers, four had sons — all of whom with one exc-p- 
tion, were engaged in the military or naval service of the country during 
the last war. 

1st. General Richard Butler's son William died a lieutenant in the 
navy, early in the last war. His son. Captain James Butler, was at the 
head of the Pittsburg Blues, which company he commanded in the cam- 
paigns of the northwest, and v/as particularly distinguished in the battle 
of Mississinnawa. 

2d. Colonel William Butler, also of the revolutionary army, had two 
sons ; one died in the navy, the other a subaltern in Wayne's army. He 
was in the battle v/ith the Indians in 1794. 

3d. Lieut. Col. Thomas Butler, of the old stock, had three sons, the 
eldest a judge. The second, Col. Robert Butler, was at the head of Gen. 
Jackson's staff throughout the last war. The third, William E. Butler, 
also served in the army of Gen. Jackson. 

4th. Percival Butler, captain in the revolutionary war, and adjutant 
general of Kentucky during the last war, had four sons : first, Thomas, 
who was a captain, and aid to Gen. Jackson at New Orleans ; next, Gen. 
William O. Butler, the subject of this notice ; third, Richard, who was 
assistant adjutant general in the campaigns of the war of 1812. Perci- 
val Bu^er, the youngest son, now a distmguished lawyer, was not of an 
age to bear arms in the last war. Of the second generation of the But- 
lers, there are nine certainly, and probably more, engaged in the present 
war. 

This glance at the family shows the character of the race. An anec- 



6 

dote, derived from a letter of an old Pennsylvania friend of the parents, 
who transplanted it from Ireland, shows that its military instinct was an 
inheritance. " While the five sons,'' says the letter, " were absent from 
home in the service of the countiy, the old father took it into his head 
to ^o also. The neighbors collected to remonstrate against it ; but his 
wife said, ' Let him go ! I can get along without him, and raise some- 
thing to feed the army in the bargain ; and the country wants every man 
who can shoulder a musket.' " It was doubtless this extraordinary zeal 
of the Butler family which induced Gen. Washington to give the toast — 
"The Butlers, and' their five sons," at his own table, whilst surrounded 
by a large party of ofllicers. This anecdote rests on the authority of the 
late Gen. Findlay, of Cincinnati. A similar tribute of respect was paid 
to this devoted house of soldiers by Gen. Lafayette, in a letter now ex- 
tant, and in the possession of a lady connected with it by marriage. 
Lafayette says, " When I wanted a thing well done^ I ordered a Butler 
to do it:'' 

From this retrospect, it will he seen that, in all the wars of the coun- 
try — in the revolutionary war, in the Indian war, in the last British war, 
and the present Mexican war — the blood of almost every Butler able to 
bear arms has been freely shed in the public cause. Maj. Gen. William 
O. Butler is now among the highest in the military service of his conn- 
try ; and he has attained this gi-ade from the ranks — the position of a 
private being the only one he ever sought. At the opening of the war 
of 1812, he had just graduated in the Transyb-ania University, and was 
looking to the law as a profession. The surrender of Detroit, and of t le 
army by Hull, aroused the patriotism and the valor of Kentucky ; and 
young Butler, yet in his minority, was among the first to volunteer. He 
gave up his books, and the enjoyments of the gay and polished society 
of Lexington, where he lived among a circle of fond and partial relations 
— the hope to gratify their ambition in shining at the bar, or in the polit- 
ical forum of the State— to join Capt. Hart's company of infantry as a 
private soldier. 

Before the march to join the northwestern army, he was elected a cor- 
poral. In this grade he marched to the relief of Fort Wayne, which 
was invested by hostile Indians. These were driven before the Kentucky 
volunteers to their towns on the Wabash, which were destroyed, and the 
troops then returned to the Miami of the lakes, where they made a win- 
ter encampment. Here an ensign's commission in the second regiment 
of United States infantry was tendered to the volunteer corporal, which 
he declined, unless permitted to remain with the northwestern army, 
which he had entered to share in the efix)rt of the Kentucky militia to 
wipe out the disgrace of Hull's surrender by the recapture of Detroit. 
His proposition was assented to, and he received an ensign's appointment 
in the 17th infantry, then a part of the northwestern army, under the 
command of Gen. Winchester. After enduring every privation in a win- 
ter encampment, in the wildernesses and frozen marshes of the lake 
country, awaiting in vain the expected support of additional forces, the 
Kentucky volunteers, led by Lewis, Allen, and Madison, with Well's 
regiment, (]7th U. S.,) advanced to encounter the force of British and 
Indians wjiich defended Detroit, On leaving Kentucky, the volunteers 



had pledged themselves to drive the British invaders from our soil. 
These men and their leaders were held in such estimation at home, that 
the expectation formed of them exceeded their promises ; and these vol- 
unteers, though disappointed in every succor which they had reason to an- 
ticipate — wanting in provisions, clothes, cannon, in everything — resolved, 
rather than lose reputation, to press on to the enterprise, and endeavor to 
draw on after them, by entering into action, the troops behind. It is not 
proper here to enter into explanations of the causes of the. disaster at the 
river Raisin, the consequence of this movement, nor to give the particu- 
lars of the battle. The incidents which signahzed the character of the 
subject of this memoir alone are proper here. 

There were two battles at the river Raisin — one on the 18th, tlie other 
on the 22d of January, hi the first, the whole body of Indian warriors, 
drawn together from all the lakes tribes, for the defence of Upper Cana- 
da against the approaching Kentuckians, were encountered. In moving 
to the attack of this formidable force of the fiercest, and bravest, and 
most expert warriors on the continent, a strong party of them were de- 
scried from the line with which Ensign Butler advanced, running for- 
ward to reach a fence, as a cover from which to ply their rifles. Butler 
instantly proposed, and was permitted, to anticipate them. Calling upon 
some of the most alert and active men of the company, he ran directly 
to meet the Indians at the fence. He and his comrades outstripped the 
enemy ; and, getting possession of the fence, kept the advantage of the 
position for their advancing friends. This incident, of however little im- 
portance as to results, is worth remembrance in giving the traits of a 
young soldier's character. It is said that the hardiest veteran, at the 
opening of the fire in battle, feels, for the moment, somewhat appalled; 
and Gen. Wolfe, one of the bravest of men, declared that the »^ horrid 
yell of the Indian strikes the boldest heart with aflright." The strip- 
pling student, who, for the first time, beheld a field of battle on the snows 
of the river Raisin, presenting in bold relief, long files of those terrible eni- 
mies, whose massacres had filled his native State with tales of horror, 
must have felt some stirring sensations. But the cmck of the Indian ri- 
fle, and his savage yell, awoke in him the chivalric instincts of his na- 
ture ; and the promptitude with which he communicated his enthusiasm 
to a few comrades around, and rushed forward to meet danger in its most 
appalling form, risking himself to save others, and to secure a triumph 
which he could scarcely hope to share, gave earnest of the military tal- 
ent, the self-sacrificing courage, and the soldierly sympathies which have 
drawn to him the nation's esteem. The close of the battle of the 18th 
gave another instance in which these latter traits of Gen. Butler's char- 
acter were still more strikingly illustrated. The Indians, driven from the 
defences around the town on the river Raisin, retired fighting into the 
thick woods beyond it. The contest of sharp-shooting from tree to tree 
was here continued — the Kentuckians pressing forward, and the Indians 
retreating — until night closed in, when the Kentuckians were recalled to 
the encampment in the village. The Indians advanced as their opposers 
withdrew, and kept up the fire until the Kentuckians emerged from the 
woods into the open ground. Just as the column to which Ensign But- 
ler belonged reached the verge of the dark forest, the voice of a wounded 



8 

man, who had been left some distance behind, was heard calling out most 
piteously for help. Butler induced three of his company to go back in 
the woods with him, to bring him ofl! He was found, and they fought 
their way back — one of the men, Jeremiah Walker, receiving a shot, of 
which he subsequently died. 

In the second sanguinary battle of the river Raisin, on the 22d of 
January, with the British and hidians, another act of self-devotion was 
performed by Butler. After the rout and massacre of the right Aving, 
belonging to Well's command, the whole force of the British and Indi- 
ans was concentrated against the small body of troops under Major Mad- 
ison, that maintained their ground within the picketed gardens. A dou- 
ble barn, commanding the plat of ground on which the Kentuckians 
stood, was approached on one side by the Indians, under the cover of an 
orchard and fence ; the British, on the other side, being so posted as to 
command the space between it and the pickets. A party in the rear of 
the barn were discovered advancing to take possession of it. All saw 
the fatal censequences of the secure lodgment of the enemy at a place 
which would present every man within the pickets at close rifle-shot to 
the aim of their marksmen. Major Madison inquired if there was no 
one who would volunteer to run the gauntlet of the fire of the British 
and Indian lines, and put a torch to the combustibles within the barn, to 
save the remnant of the little army from sacrifice. Butler, without a 
moment's delay, took some blazing sticks from a fire at hand, leaped the 
pickets, and, running at his utmost speed, thrust the fire into the straw 
within the barn. One who was an anxious spectator of the event we 
narrate, says, " that although volley upon volley was fired at him, But- 
ler, after making some steps on his way back, turned to see if the fire 
had taken, and, not being satisfied, returned to the barn, and set it in a 
blaze. As the conflagration grew, the enemy was seen retreating from 
the rear of the building, which they had entered at one end as the flame 
ascended in the other. Soon after reaching the pickets in safety, amid 
the shouts of his friends, he was struck by a ball in his breast. Believ- 
ing, from the pain he felt, that it had penetrated his chest, turning to Ad- 
jutant (now General) McCall, one of his Lexington comrades, and press- 
ing his hand to the spot, he said, " I fear this shot is mortal ; but while 
I am able to move, I will do my duty." To the anxious inquiries of 
this friend, who met him soon afterward again, he opened his vest, with 
a smile, and showed him that the ball had spent itself on the thick wad- 
ding of his coat and on his breastbone. He suffered, however, for many 
weeks. 

The little band within the pickets, which Winchester had surrendered, 
after being carried himself a prisoner into Proctor's camp, denied his 
powers. They continued to hold the enemy at bay until they were ena- 
bled to capitulate on honorable terms, which, nevertheless. Proctor shame- 
fully violated, by leaving the sick and wounded who were unable to walk 
to the tomahawk of his allies. Butler, who was among the few of the 
wounded who escaped the massacre, was marched through Canada to 
Fort Niagara — suffering under his wound, and every privation — oppressed 
with grief, hunger, fatigue, and the inclement cold of that desolate re- 
gion. Even here he forgot himself, and his mind wandered back to the 



9 

last night scene which he surveyed on the bloody shores of the river 
Raisin. He gave up the heroic part, and became the school-boy again, 
and commemorated his sorrows for his lost friends in verse, like some 
passionate, heart-broken lover. These elegiac strains were never in- 
tended for any but the eye of mutual friends, whose sympathies, like his 
own, poured out tears with their plaints over the dead. We give some 
of these lines of his boyhood, to show that the heroic youth had a bosom 
not less kind than brave. 

THE FIELD OF RAISIN. 

The batde's o'er ! the din is past. 
Night's mantle on tlie field is cast ; 
The Indian yell is heard no more. 
And silence broods o'er Erie's shore. 
At this lone hour I go to tread 
The field where valor vainly bled — 
To raise the wounded warrior's crest, 
Or warm with tears his icy breast ; 
To treasure up his last command. 
And bear it to his native land. 
It may one pulse of joy impart 
To a fond mother's bleeding heart ; 
Or for a moment it may dry 
The tear-drop in the widow's eye. 
Vain hope, away ! The widow ne'er 
Her warrior's dying wish shall hear. 
The passing zephyr bears no sigh. 
No wounded warrior meets the eye — 
Death is his sleep by Erie's wave. 
Of Raisin's snow we heap his grave! 
How many hopes lie murdered here — 

The mother's joy, the father's pride, 
The country's boast, the foeman's fear, 

In wilder'd havoc, side by side. 
Lend me, thou silent queen of night. 
Lend me awhile thy waning light, 
That I may see each well loved form. 
That sunk beneath the morning storm. 

These lines are introductory to what may be considered a succession 
of epitaphs on the personal friends whose bodies he found upon the field. 
It would extend the extract too far to insert them. We can only add 
the close of the poem, where he takes leave of a group of his young 
comrades in Hart's company, who had fallen together : ' 

And here I see that youthful band. 
That loved to move at Hart's command ; 
I saw them for the battie dressed. 
And still where danger thickest pressed, 
I marked their crimson plumage wave. 
How many fiU this bloody grave ! 
Their pillow and their winding-sheet 
The virgin snow — a shroud most meet! 

•9 



10 

But wherefore do I linger here ? 
Why drop the unavailing tear ? 
Where'er I turn, some youthful form, 
Like Uoweret broken by the storm. 
Appeals to me in sad array, 
And bids me yet a moment stay. 
Till I could fondly lay me down 
And sleep with him on the cold ground. 

For thee, thou dread and solemn plain^ 
I ne'er shall look on thee again ; 
And spring, with her elfacing showers. 
Shall come, and summer's mantling flowers ; 
And each succeeding winter throw 
On thy red breast new robes of snow j 
Yet I will wear thee in my heart. 
All dark and gory as thou art. 

Shortly after his return from Canada, Ensign Butler was promoted tc 
a captaincy in the regiment to which he belonged. But as this promo- 
tion was irregular, being made over the heads of senior officers in that 
regiment, a captaincy was given him in the 44th, a newly raised regi- 
ment. When freed from parole, by exchange, in 1814, he instantly en- 
tered on active duty, with a company which he recruited at Nashville, 
Tennessee. His regiment was ordered to join General Jackson in the 
South ; but Captain Butler, finding its movements too tardy, pushed on, 
and effected that junction with his company alone. General Call, at that 
time an officer in Captain Butler's company, (since governor of Florida,) 
in a letter addressed to Mr. Tanner, of Kentucky^ presents, as an eye- 
witness, so graphically the share which Captain Butler had in the cam- 
paign which followed, that it may well supersede any narrative at second 
hand. 

Tallahassee, April 3, 1844. 

Sir: I avail myself of the earliest leisure I have had since the receipt 
of yoiir letter of the 18th of February, to give you a reply. 

A difference of political sentiments will not induce me to withhold the 
narrative you have requested, of the military services of Col. Wm. O. 
Butler, during the late war with Great Britain, while attached lo the ar- 
my of the south. My intimate association with him, in camp, on the 
march, and in the field, has perhaps made me as well acquainted with his 
merits, as a gentleman and a soldier, as any other man living. And al- 
though we are now standing in opposite ranks, I cannot forget the days 
and nights we have stood side by side facing the common enemy of our 
country, sharing the same fatigues, dangers, and privations, and partici- 
pating in the same pleasures and enjoyments. The feelings and sympa- 
thies springing from such associations in the days of our youth can never 
be removed or impaired by a difference of opinion with regard to men or 
measures, when each may well believe the other equally sincere as him- 
self, and where the most ardent desire of both is to sustain the honor, 
the happiness, and prosperity of our country. 

Soon after my appointment in the army of the United States, as a lieu- 
tenant, in the fall of 1814, I was ordered to join the company of Captain 



11 

Butler, of the 44tli regiment of infantry, then at Nashville, Tennessee. 
When I arrived and reported myself, I found the company under orders 
to join our regiment in the south. The march — ^mostly through an un 
settled wilderness — was conducted by Captain Butler with his usual 
promptitude and energy ; and, by forced and rapid movements, we arri- 
ved at Fort Montgomery, the headquarters of Gen. Jackson, a short dis- 
tance above the Florida line, just In time to follow^ our beloved general 
in his bold enterprise to drive the enemy from his strong position in a 
neutral territory. The vanguard of the army destined for the invasion 
of Louisiana had made Pensacola its headquarters, and the British navy 
in the Gulf of Mexico had rendezvoused in that beautiful bay. 

The penetrating sagacity of Gen. Jackson discovered the advantage of 
the position assumed by the British forces ; and, with a decision and en- 
ergy which never faltered, he resolved to find his enemy, even under the 
flag of a neutral power. This was done by a prompt and rapid march, 
surprising and cutting off all the advanced pickets, until we arrived with- 
in gunshot of the fort at Pensacola. The army of Gen. Jackson was 
then so inconsiderable as to render a reinforcement of a single company, 
commanded by such an officer as Capt. Butler, an important acquisition. 
And although there were several companies of regular troops ordered to 
march from Tennessee at the same time, Capt. Butler's, by his extraor- 
dinary energy and promptitude, was the only one which arrived in time 
to join this expedition. His company formed a part of the centre col- 
umn of attack at Pensacola. The street we entered was defended by a 
battery in front, which fired on us incessantly, while several strong block- 
houses, on our flanks, discharged upon us small arms and artillery. But 
a gallant and rapid charge soon carried the guns in front, and the town 
immediately surrendered. 

In this fight Capt. Butler led on his company with his usual intrepidi- 
ty. He had one officer, Lieut. Flournoy, severely wounded, and several 
non-commissioned officers and privates killed and wounded. 

From Pensacola, after the object of the expedition was completed, by 
another prompt and rapid movement we arrived at New Orleans a few 
weeks before the appearance of the enemy. 

On the 23d of December the signal-gim announced the approach of 
the enemy. The previous night they had surprised and captured one of 
our pickets ; had ascended a bayou, disembarked, and had taken posses- 
sion of the left bank of the Mississippi, within six mfles of New Or- 
leans. The energy of every officer was put in requisition, to concen- 
trate our forces in time to meet the enemy. Capt. Butler was one of the 
first to arrive at the General's quarters, and ask instructions ; they were 
received, and promptly executed. Our regiment, stationed on the oppo- 
site side, was transported across the river. All the available forces of 
our army, not much exceeding fifteen hundred men, were concentrated 
in the city ; and while the sun went down, the line of battle was formed, 
and every officer took the station assigned him in the fight. The infant- 
ry formed on the open square, in front of the cathedral, waiting in anx- 
ious expectation for the order to move. During this momentary pause, 
while the enemy was expected to enter the city, a scene of deep and 
thrilling interest was presented. Every gallery, porch, and window 



12 

around the square were filled with the fair forms of beauty, in silent 
anxiety and alarm, waving their handkerchiefs to the gallant and devoted 
band which stood before them, prepared to die, or defend them from the 
rude intrusion of a foreign soldiery. It was a scene calculated to awak- 
en emotions never to be forgotten. It appealed to the chivalry and pa- 
triotism of every officer and soldier — it inspired every heart, and nerved 
every arm for battle. From this impressive scene the army marched to 
meet the enemy, and about eight o'clock at night they were surprised in 
their encampment, immediately on the banks of the Mississippi. Undis- 
covered our line was formed in silence within a short distance of the 
enemy; a rapid charge was made into their camp, and a desperate con- 
flict ensued. After a determined resistance, the enemy gave way, but 
disputing every inch of ground we gained. In advancing over ditches 
and fences in the night, rendered still more dark by the smoke of the 
battle, much confusion necessarily ensued, and many officers became 
separated from their commands. It more than once occurred during the 
fight, that some of our officers, through mistake, entered the enemy's 
lines ; and the British officers in like manner entered ours. The merit- 
orious officer in command of our regiment, at the commencement of the 
battle, lost his position in the darkness and confusion, and was unable to 
regain it until the action was over. In this manner, for a short time, the 
regiment was without a commander, and its movements were regulated 
by the platoon officers, which increased the confusion and irregularity 
of the advance. In this critical situation, and in the heat of the battle, 
Capt. Butler, as the senior officer present, assumed command of the regi- 
ment, and led it on most gallantly to repeated and successful charges, 
until the fight ended in the complete rout of the enemy. We were still 
pressing on their rear, when an officer of the general's staff rode up and 
ordered the pursuit discontinued. Capt. Butler urged its continuance, 
and expressed the confident belief of his ability to take many prisoners, 
if permitted to advance. But the order was promptly repeated, under 
the well-founded apprehension that our troops might come in collision 
with each other — an event which had unhappily occurred at a previous 
hour of the fight. No corps on that field was more bravely led to bat- 
tle than the regiment commanded by Captain Butler ; and no officer of 
any rank, save the commander-in-chief, was entitled to higher credit for 
the achievement of that glorious night. 

A short time before the battle of the 8th of January, Captain Butler 
was detailed to command the guard in front of the encampment. A 
house standing near the bridge, in advance of his position, had been ta- 
ken possession of by the light troops of the enemy, from whence they 
annoyed our guard. Captain Butler determined to dislodge them and 
burn the house. He accordingly marched to the attack at the head of 
his command, but the enemy retired before him. Seeing them retreat, 
he halted his guard, and advanced himself, accompanied by two or three 
men only, for the purpose of burning the house. It was an old frame 
building, weather-boarded, without ceiling or plaster in the inside, with 
a single door opening to the British camp. On entering the house, he 
found a soldier of the enemy concealed in one corner, whom he cap- 
tured and sent to the rear with his men, remaining alone in the house. 



13 

While he was in the act of kindling a fire, a detachment of the enemy, 
imperceived, occupied the only door. The first impulse was to force, 
with his single arm, a passage through them ; but he was instantly seiz- 
ed in a violent manner by two or three stout fellows, who pushed him 
back against the wall with such force as to burst off the weather-board- 
ing from the wall, and he fell through the opening thus made. In an 
instant he recovered himself, and, under a heavy fire from the enemy, he 
retreated until supported by the guard, which he immediately led on to 
the attack, drove the British light troops from their strong position, and 
burnt the house in the presence of the two armies. 

I witnessed on that field many deeds of daring courage, but none of 
which more excited my admiration than this. 

Captain Butler was soon after in the battle of the 8th of January, 
where he sustained his previously high and well-earned reputation for 
bravery and usefulness. But that battle, which, from its important re- 
sults, has eclipsed those which preceded it, was but a slaughter of the 
enemy, with trivial loss on our part, and presenting few instances of in- 
dividual distinction. 

Captain Butler received the brevet rank of major for his gallant ser- 
vices during that eventful campaign, and the reward of merit was never 
more worthily bestowed. Soon at\er the close of the war, he was ap- 
pointed aid-de-camp to General Jackson, in which station he remained 
until he retired from the army. Since that period I have seldom had the 
pleasure of meeting with my valued friend and companion in arms, and 
I know but little of his career in civil life. But in camp, his elevated 
principles, his intelligence and generous feelings, won for him the re- 
spect and confidence of all who knew him ; and where he is best known, 
I will venture to say he is still most highly appreciated for every attri- 
bute which constitutes the gentleman and the soldier. 
I am, sir, very respectfully, 

R. K. CALL. 
Mr. William Tanner. 

Gen. Jackson's sense of the services of Butler in this memorable cam- 
paign, was strongly expressed in the following letter to a member of the 
Kentucky Legislature: 

Hermitage, Feb. 20, 1844. 

My Dear Sir: — You ask me to give you my opinion of the military 
services of the then Capt. (now Colonel) Wm. O. Butler, of Kentucky, 
during the investment of New Orleans by the British forces in 1814 and 
1815. I wish I had suflicient strength to speak fully of the merit and 
the services of Col. Butler on that occasion ; this strength I have not. 
Suflice it to say, that on all occasions he displayed that heroic chivalry, 
and calmness of judgment in the midst of danger, which distinguish the 
valuable officer in the hour of battle. In a conspicuous manner were 
those noble qualities displayed by him on the night of the 23d Decem- 
ber, 1814, and on the 8th of January, 1815, as well as at all times dur- 
ing the presence of the British army at New Orleans. In short, he was 
to be found at all points where duty called. 1 hazard nothing in saying, 



14 

that should our country again he engaged m war during the active age 
of Col. Butler, he would be one of the very best selections that could 
be made to command our army, and lead the eagles of our country on 
to victory and renown. He has sufficient energy to assume all respon- 
sibility necessary to success, and for his country's good. 

ANDREW JACKSON. 

General Jackson gave earlier proof of the high estmiation in which 
he held the young soldier who had identified himself Avith his own glory 
at New Orleans. He made him his aid-de-camp in 1816, which station 
he retained on the peace establishment, with the rank of colonel. But, 
like his illustrous patron, he soon felt that military station and distinction 
had no charms for him when unattended with the dangers, duties, and 
patriotic achievements of war. He resigned, therefore, even the associa- 
tion with his veteran chief, of which he was so proud, and retired in 
1817 to private life. He resumed the study of the profession that was 
interrupted by the war, married, and settled down on his patrimonial pos- 
session at the confluence of the Kentucky and Ohio rivers, in the 
noiseless but arduous vocations of civil life. The abode which he had 
chosen made it peculiarly so with him. The region around him was 
wild and romantic, sparsely settled, and by pastoral people. There are 
no populous towns. The high, rolling, and yet rich land — the precipi- 
tous cliffs of the Kentucky, of Eagle, Severn, and other tributaries which 
pour into it near the mouth, make this section of the State still, to some 
extent, a wilderness of thickets — of the tangled pea-vine, the grape vine, 
and nut-bearing trees, which rendered all Kentucky, until the intrusion 
of the whites, one great Indian park. The whole luxuriant domain was 
preserved by the Indians as a pasture for buffalo, deer, elk, and other 
animals — their enjoyment alike as a chase and a subsistence — ^by exclu- 
ding eveiy tribe from fixing a habitation in it. Its name consecrated it 
as the dark and bloody ground ; and war pursued every foot that trod it. 
In the midst of this region, in April 1791, Wm. O. Butler was born, in 
Jessamine county, on the Kentucky river. His father had married in 
Lexington, soon after his arrival in Kentucky, 1782, Miss Howkins, a 
sister-in-law of Col. Todd, who commanded and perished in the battle of 
the Blue-Licks. Following the inslincts of his family, which seemed 
ever to court danger, Gen. Pierce Butler, as neighborhood encroached 
around him, removed, not long after the birth of his son William, to the 
mouth of the Kentucky river. Through this section, the Indian war- 
path into the heart of Kentucky passed. Until the peace of 1794, there 
was scarcely a day that some hostile savage did not prowl through the 
tangled forests, and the labyrinths of hills, streams, and cliffs, which 
adapted this region to their lurlcing warfare. From it they emerged when 
they made their last formidable incursion, and pushed their foray to the 
environs of Frankfort, the capital of the State. Gen. Pierce Butler had 
on one side of him the Ohio, on the farther shore of which the savage 
hordes still held the mastery ; and on the other, the romantic region 
through which they hunted and pressed their war enterprises. And here, 
amid the scenes of border warfare, his son William had that spirit which 
has animated him through life, educated by the legends of the Indian- 
fighting hunters of Kentucky. 



15 

To the feelings and taste inspired by the peculiarities of the place and 
circumstances adverted to, must be attributed the return of Col. Butler to 
his father's home, to enter on his profession as a lawyer. There were 
no great causes or rich clients to attract him — no dense population to lift 
him to the political honors of the State. The eloquence and learning, 
tlie industry and integrity which he gave to adjust the controversies of 
Gallatin and the surrounding counties, would have crowned him with 
wealth and professional distinction, if exhibited at Louisville or Lexing- 
ton. But he coveted neither. Independence, the affections of his early 
associates, the love of a family circle, and the charm which the recollec- 
tion of a happy boyhood gave to the scenes in which he was reared, 
were all he sought ; and he found them all in the romantic dells and 
woodland heights of the Kentucky, and on the sides of the far-spreading, 
gently-flowing, beautiful Ohio. The feeling which his sincere and sen- 
sitive nature had imbibed here, was as strong as that of the Switzer for 
his bright lakes, lofty mountains, and deep valleys. The wild airs of the 
boat horn, which have resounded for so many years from arks descend- 
ing the Ohio and Kentucky, floating along the current, and recurring in 
echoes from the hollows of the hills, like its eddies, became as dear 
to him as the famous Rans de Vache to the native of Switzerland. We 
insert, as characteristic alike of the poetical talent and temperament of 
Butler, some verses which the sound of this rude instrument evoked 
when he returned home, resigning with rapture "the ear-piercing fife and 
spirit-stirring drum " for the wooden horn, which can only compass, in 
its simple melody, such airs as that to which Burns has set his beautiful 
words — 

When wild war's deadly blast was blawn. 

And gentle peace returning, 
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless. 

And mony a widow mourning j 
I left the hues and tented field. 

The music of this song made the burden of the " Boatman's Horn," and 
always announced the approaching ark to the river villages. 

The sentiments of the poet, as well as the sweet and deep tones which 
wafted the plaintive air over the wide expanse of the Ohio, may have 
contributed to awaken the feelings which pervade these lines : 

THE BOAT HORN. 

0, boatman ! wind that horn again. 

For never did the hst'ning air 

Upon its lambent bosom bear 
So wild, so soft, so sweet a strain. 
What though thy notes are sad and few, 

By every simple boatman blown, 
Yet is each pulse to nature true. 

And melody in every tone. 
How oft in boyhood's joyous day. 

Unmindful of the lapsing hours, 
I've loitered on mv homeward way 



16 

By wild Ohio's brink of flowers. 
While some lone boatman, from the deck. 

Poured his soft numbers to that tide. 
As if to charm from storm and wreck 

The boat where all his fortunes ride ♦ 
Delighted Nature drank the sound. 
Enchanted — Echo bore it round 
In whispers soft, and softer still. 
From hill to plain, and plain to hill. 
Till e'en the thoughtless, frolick boy. 
Elate with hope, and wild with joy, 
Who gamboPd by the river's side, 
And sported with the fretting tide, 
Feels something new pervade his breast. 
Chain his hght step, repress his jest. 
Bends o'er the flood his eager ear 
To catch the sounds far off, yet dear — 
Drinks the sweet draught, but knows not why 
The tear of rapture fills his eye. 
And can he now, to manhood grown. 
Tell why those notes, simple and lone. 
As on the ravished ear they fell. 
Bind every sense in magic spell 1 
There is a tide of feehng given 
To all on earth — its fountain. Heaven. 
Beginning with the dewy flower. 
Just oped in Flora's vernal bower — 
Rising creation's orders through 
With louder murmur, brighter hue — 
That tide is sympathy ! its ebb and flow 
Give life its hue of joy and wo. 
Music, the master-spirit that can move 
Its waves to war, or lull them into love — 
Can cheer the sinking sailor mid the wave. 
And bid the soldier on ! nor fear the grave — 
Inspire the fainting pilgrim on his road. 
And elevate his soul to claim his God. 
Then boatman ! wind that horn again ! 
Though much of sorrow mark its strain. 
Yet are its notes to sorrow dear. 
What though they wake fond memory's tear ! 
Tears are sad Memory's sacred feast. 
And Rapture oft her chosen guest. 

This retirement, which may almost be considered seclusion, was en- 
joyed by Col. Butler nearly twenty-five years, when he was called out 
by the democratic party to redeem, by his personal popularity, the con- 
gressional district in which he lived. It was supposed that no one else 
could save it from the whigs. Like all the rest of his family— none of 
whom had made their military service a passport to the honors and emol- 
uments of civil stations— he was averse to relinquish the attitude he oc- 
cupied, to enter on a party struggle. The importunity of friends pre- 
vailed ; and he was elected to two successive terms in Congress — abso- 
lutely refusing to be a candidate a third time. He spoke seldom in Con- 
gress ; but, in two or three fine speeches, which appear in the debates, a 



17 

power will readily be detected, which could not have failed to conduct 
to the highest distinction in that body. Taste, judgment, and eloquence 
characterized all his efforts in Congress. A fine manner, an agreeable 
voice, and the high consideration accorded to him by the members of all 
parties, gave him — what it is the good fortune of few to obtain — an at- 
tentive and gratified audience. 

General Butler's political principles have been, from his youth to the 
present day, uniformly democratic. Brought up in the school of opin- 
ion in which Mr. Clay was once a successful teacher. General Butler re- 
fused to yield his principles, to promote the aspirations of Kentucky's 
champion. Neither cajolements nor threats could swerve him from the 
line of rectitude ; and this fact accounts for his having lived so much in 
retirement since the period of Mr. Clay's defection from his old political 
friends. 

While he had a seat in Congress in 1841, the case of the McLeod trial 
came up, and Gen. Butler delivered one of the most effective speeches 
which were uttered on the occasion. As it shows in strong colors his 
political principles, as well as furnishes a specimen of his congressional 
style of debate, we give an extract : 

The following resolution of Mr. Floyd being under consideration : 

Resolved, That the President of the United States be requested to inform this 
House, if not incompatible with the public interest, whether any officer of the ar- 
my, or the Attorney General of the United States, has, since the 4th of March last, 
been directed to visit the State of New York, for any purpose connected with the 
imprisonment and trial of Alexander McLeod ; and whether by any executive mea- 
sures or correspondence the British government has been given to understand that 
Mr. McLeod will be released or surrendered ; and, if so, to communicate to this 
House copies of the instructions and report of such officer : 

Mr. W. O. Butler addressed the House as follows : 

Mr. Speaker : When this resolution was under consideration about a 
month since, I confess I felt much anxiety to mingle in the debate then 
in progress. And, although that anxiety has in a great degree subsided 
with the feelings of the moment that gave rise to it, yet I will avail my- 
self of the present most unexpected opportunity to give my views upon 
it. As I am limited to a single hour, I will enter at once upon what I 
design saying, without preface or exordium. 

Although the whole course pursued by Mr. Webster in relation to the 
burning of the Caroline, and the demand for the release of McLeod, 
meets my unqualified disapprobation, and, as I have no doubt, will meet 
the condemnation of nine-tenths of the American people ; yet my pur- 
pose is less to censure or criticise that course, than to express my own 
views on these important and highly interesting matters. I have, how- 
ever, another object in view, and that not a subordinate one. I desire to 
repel, with due contempt, some of the many and bitter attacks that have 
been made upon the democratic party and the late President, in the pro- 
gress of this debate, by the federalists who have undertaken the defence 
of Mr. Webster, their leader, and their favorite. They charge us with 
attempting to stimulate the nation into a war, for base political purposes. 
For these, and all such charges, I ran but feel the most thorough con- 
3 



18 

tempt. I have invariably found those who are in the daily habit of making 
the most bitter and ruthless charges against a whole party, to be the very 
last who would dare to whisper aught injurious to the reputation of any 
individual member of such party. Sir, the democratic party know too well 
on whom the burdens of war always have fallen, and must fall, to desire it 
when not demanded imperatively for the honor and safety of the nation. 
And I look upon him, or them, who desire war for any other purpose, 
with as much contempt as I would upon those who would skulk when 
a war was proper. And I might, with much more truth, retort on the 
gentlemen who have made these charges, that they have conjured them 
up, with the vain hope of screening themselves and their leader from the 
contumely and disgrace that are likely to overtake them. 

1 will now beg leave to turn my particular attention to the gentleman 
from New York, [Mr. Hunt.] 1 owe that gentleman an apology for not 
having heard his whole speech. It was accident alone that 1 heard any 
part of it. I understood him to say — and 1 know 1 did not misunder- 
stand him — that Mr. Van Buren, by his misconduct was justly chargea- 
able with the burning of the Caroline, and all its train of evil conse- 
quences ; that but for his gross and criminal neglect of a high official 
duty, these misfortunes would never have befallen the country. 1 under- 
stood him specifically to charge that Mr. Van Buren, with the hope to 
gain the northern districts of New York for his friends who were can- 
didates for Congress, and thereby to strengthen himself, had abstained 
from issuing his proclamation, which, had he issued at a proper time, 
would have prevented all these disasters to the country. Sir, let me tell 
the gentleman who has made these charges, that he is paying his own 
noble State a most shabby compliment, when he announces to the world 
that her support is to be purchased by such vile means ; when he holds 
out the possibility even that the President of the United States could 
hope to win her favor, either for his friends or himself, by a criminal 
dereliction of duty. It is said, and from undoubted authority, that a 
charge of precisely an opposite character was made against him pending 
the very elections to which the gentleman has referred. It was then 
convenient to charge him with a too rigid administration of the law, to 
the oppression of the patriot cause ; by which his friends are said to 
have lost ground both in New York and Maine. One of these charges 
is about as true as the other, and both of them false. Can any sane man 
believe that Mr. Van Buren, in the first six months of his presidency, 
was so muck alarmed about his re-election as to be driven to such a despe- 
rate and despicable resort as this ? Whom did he fear as a competitor } 
Was it General Harrison ? He had just beaten him two to one. Was it 
Mr. Clay } To the reproach of a party supported by his name and tal- 
ents alone, they have ever abandoned him at the hour of need, and left 
him to the mortification of being distanced by every competitor. What 
party had he to fear.? The whig party .? The discordant elements that 
have since made it up were then in a state of angry chaos. The odds 
and ends, and shreds and patches of all parties that now compose it, had 
not yet been forced even into a repulsive contiguity. The southern 
slaveholder and the northern abolitionist had not yet been taught that 
their honor and their intere-:t required of them to pull kindly in the same 



19 

harness, No, sir; these were among the many other equally strange 
things taught afterward in the Harrisburg convention, and form too im- 
portant an epoch in the history of the times to be chronicled at any other 
period. They were heralded into the world by the hard-cider shout, and 
made their advent under the coon-skin banner. But, whatever induce- 
ments Mr. Van Buren might have had to pursue a different course, I am 
prepared to prove that, in relation to this matter at least, he did all that 
could be desired or expected of a wise and vigilant Chief Magistrate. It 
may be true that he did not issue his proclamation quite as soon as the 
gentleman from New York thinks he should have done. But of what 
avail was it when issued ? Simply to inform the people of that which 
the simplest man in the community knew just as well before — that we 
were at peace with England, and that it would be unlawful to engage in 
the civil wars of Canada. This, if it had been done in time, would have 
satisfied the gentleman from New York; for so he has expressly in- 
formed this House. It would not have satisfied the nation, nor did it 
content Mr. Van Buren. He felt himself called upon to resort to much 
more rigid and much more efficient means. If the gentleman, who is so 
fond of censuring the President for neglect of duty, wishes to know 
what he has done, let him read the public documents within his reach, 
and he will find that on the 7th of December, 1837 — more than twenty 
days before the burning of the Caroline — he issued his orders through 
the Secretary of State, commanding the district attorneys in the States bor- 
dering on Canada to prosecute with vigor all persons who should be 
found guilty of intermeddling in the affairs of that country. He wdll also 
find that on the same day, and through the same medium, he addressed 
the several governors of those States, exhorting them to a like vigilance. 
And those governors severally issued proclamations. So that the 
peace and harmony of the two nations would have remained un- 
broken, if proclamations could have been of any avail. But this is 
not all that the President did to preserve the peace. When informed by 
the mayor of Buffalo that Mackenzie was beating up for recruits in that 
place, and when he learned also that disturbances of a like character were 
going on in other places, he immediately ordered the United States at- 
torneys of the adjoining districts to repair forthwith to the scenes where 
those illegal transactions were said to be in progress ; and he also placed 
at the disposal of these law officers all the custom-house officers in their 
vicinity. But I have still one further proof; and one which I presume 
will be conclusive with the gentleman fi'om New York, as it is British 
proof. I have the testimony of Lord Palmerston before the House of 
Commons, in which he expresses his entire satisfaction that the Ameri- 
can government were doing all in their power to preserve the friendly re- 
lations existing between the two countries. Surely, the gentleman who has 
read us the letter of the half-convicted, though knighted felon, Allan McNab, 
to criminate the American President, will receive such testimony as that 
of Lord Palmerston, in his vindication. And now, Mr. Speaker, with 
these proofs of Mr. Van Buren's vigilance before me, I take upon myself 
to say that the charge of the gentleman from New York is without the 
slightest foundation in truth ; that it is but the sickly offspring of his 
own fevered imagination. 



20 

When the proposition to restore the fine to General Jackson came up 
in 1843, General Butler made the most effective speech delivered on the 
occasion. It was listened to by both parties in the House of Represen- 
tatives with breathless attention. When he ceased, a tumultuous con- 
C;ratulation followed, which evinced the high pleasure it produced upon 
the members. We will give a single extract from this speech, in which, 
*is well as in the preceding one, the same traits of character and principle 
^re evinced — patriotism, fidelity to his friends, and bold defence of the 
democracy against all assailants : 

Mr. Speaker: Although there is, perhaps, not a gentleman around 
me less in love with the music of his own voice within these Avails, than 
I with mine, yet there are occasions— and this is one of them — on which 
I do not feel myself at liberty to follow the natural bent of my own 
inclination. It is known to you, sir, and to many others in this hall, that 
I belonged to the southern army commanded by General Jackson, in the 
years 1814 and 1815. It will, therefore.be presumed, and correctly pre- 
sumed, that I am somewhat familiar with the prominent facts and cir- 
cumstances which led to the declaration and enforcement of martial law, 
and for which the fine proposed to be remitted by the bill now under 
consideration was inflicted. It is also known to you, sir. — ^at least it is 
well known to my constituents — that I have ei'er been the warm personal 
and political friend of that distinguished gentleman. Nay, sir, that I was 
once, but not then, a member of his military family. Under all these 
circumstances, were I to remain silent, and listen to such a debate as that 
to which this subject has given rise, there could be but one of two 
opinions formed as to the cause of that silence. It would eil\her be said 
that I deemed the conduct of General Jackson utterly indefensible, or 
that I shrunk from that defence. Neither of them shall be said in ad- 
vance, whatever else may be said when I shall have taken my seat. 

What, sir, is the proposition before us ? Simply to restore to General 
Jackson the amount of a fine, inflicted, as he contends, for the perform- 
ance of an act of imperative duty, and one essential to the service of the 
country. And 5^et, sir, I see with equal pain and surprise that this sim- 
ple proposition, which ought to depend upon truth and justice alone, is 
fast assuming, if it has not already assumed, a decided party character. 
I am asked, on my right and on my left, why the democratic part}- did 
not pass such a law when in power ? Do gentlemen who make this in- 
quiry wish to leave the inference that the democratic party shrunk from 
doing so ? This no one does or can believe. W^hy should this be pe- 
culiarly a democratic measure ? Had the whigs no part in the defence 
of New Orleans ? Were none of them, or none of their friends there ? 
If they cherish no proud recollections of that glorious defence, and are 
willing to yield up all to the democratic party, then, indeed, there might 
be some pretence for making this a party question. But, sir, I know it 
is far otherwise •, I know that every patriot in the land feels his heart 
bound prouder within him, as his eye rests on that immortal page in his 
country's history ; and he feels that such achievements are a nation's, not 
a party's wealth. Still I hear the question repeated on all sides, " why 
is this measure forced upon a whig Congress ?" It may be, sir, for the 
express purpose of affording that party the opportunity to prove to the 
world that justice and magnanimity are still to be fond in its ranks ; or 



21 

it may be for precisely the opposite reason. I understand, however, it 
has been done in obedience to the voice of public sentiment — acting-, no 
doubt, on the known wishes of General Jackson to be released from a 
fine which he believes unjust, and therefore, and therefore only, oppres- 
sive. U my wish were to make political capital, and I could consent to 
resort to such a measure for such a purpose, nothing could please me 
more than to witness the party bias attempted to be given to it. Sir, will 
your party, with all its knowledge and talents, never have the wisdom to 
appreciate the American people ? Lay this question before them in your 
next canvass, and you will at least learn that ingratitude and injustice to 
those who have freely periled their lives in defence of their country form 
no part of their character. 

Before I proceed farther upon the merits of the question under consid- 
eration, permit me to say a few words in reply to part of the speech of 
the venerable gentleman, [Mr. Adams] — not on its merits. I will first 
read from the Globe's report of that speech the following paragraph : 

"Rumors were afloat — he could not, of course, vouch for their truth — 
that the great presidential question between the various divisions of the 
democratic party was to be ultimately decided by General Jackson him- 
.self. It seemed to be given out that he was to be the president of the 
national democratic convention ; and who knew what the result would 
be ? Such were the rumors which were afloat. From what the House 
had seen, it was clear that all the divisions of the part}- were humble 
suitors for the good will or neutrality of General Jackson. He did not 
expressly assign the paragraph in the message of the President to tbat 
purpose. The President alone knew what were his motives ; and, there- 
fore, he (Mr. A.) would not say that this was a bid in the great auction. 
If it was, however, a bid,. he would say that it was not a very good one. 
He thought the ' war-worn veteran' would say that such a bid won't do. 
At any rate he wished to have the trial made, by putting the bill in pre- 
cisely the same terms recommended by the President, in order to see 
whether the 'war-worn veteran' would take it." 

Now, sir, I will not pretend to decide what influence General Jackson 
may have in future president-making. It is, however, well known — and 
to none better than the venerable gentleman [Mr. Adams] himself — that 
the old hero, in his day, was esteemed a most capital president-breaker. 
And even if it were'true that, in one character, he has drawn support to 
this bill, no one can doubt that, in the other, he has excited against it a 
most deadly and unrelenting opposition. That the gentleman [Mr. Ad- 
ams] cannot consistently oppose it on ihe usual ground — the unwarrant- 
able assumption of power — is manifest from the fact, that he has him- 
self most triumphantly vindicated the same General from a similar exer- 
cise of power, on the ground of necessity, and in a much more ques- 
tionable case. We are, therefore, to seek elsewhere for that gentleman's 
opposition; nor is it difficult to find. Had Gen. Jackson retired to pri- 
vate life at the close of his military career — had he but worn meekly 
those honors which he won proudly, he might have gone down the vale 
of years followed by the prayers and blessings of all ; his laurels grow- 
ing fresher and greener at every step of his pilgrimage, until standing, as 
he now does, on the brink of the grave, they would have caught a bright 



22 

reflection ot" the world beyond it. I'hia bill would then have passed on 
its merits, and passed by acclamation. But, sir, he dared do otherwise. 
He dared throw his tall, straight shadow across the crooked path of 
mad ambition. He dared resist that combination, trick, and jugglery, by 
which a federal dynasty was foisted upon a free country. He dared ap- 
peal — and appeal successfully — from the people's servants to the people 
themselves. And, above all, sir, he dared strike to dust a corrupt money- 
ed monopoly, alike essential in every age and country to the existence 
of such a dynasty. This, sir, is the front of his offending — this has ar- 
rayed party vengeance against tliis bill. 

The same venerable gentleman has also spoken of the sale of the of- 
fice of President at public auction; and seems emulous to succeed my 
friend from Indiana, [iMr. ThompsoiX,] who, a few days since, gave us a 
most amusing display of his taleiils as congressional auctioneer. This 
new auctioneer, too, has thought tit to change his rooms from the White 
House to the Hermitage. Now, sir, as we have learned from the vener- 
able gentleman [Mr. Adams] the »' rumor" that one ex-President is to 
dispose of the democratic interest in the next election of Chief Magis- 
trate, it is but fair to presume — from " rumor," of course — that the other 
ex-President may have some little influence in disposing of the whig in- 
terest in the same office ; and, if so, in requital for his important infor- 
mation, on the veritable authority of "rumor," I would advise him, by 
all means, when that interest is disposed of, to adhere to the good old 
" rumored" precedent of 1824 — or perhaps, sir, sealed proposals will 
suit quite as well. 

Whether I ought to take any, or what notice 1 ought to take of the 
groveling anecdote of the traitor Arnold, applied by the venerable ex- 
President [Mr. Adams] to an old successful competitor for the first office 
in the world, long after that competitor had quitted the political arena 
forever, is a matter of much doubt. I will simply say of this attack, 
that it is of but too close aflinity with that made by the notorious Knight 
of Gadshill on the soldier corse of the gallant Percy — and will be felt 
about as much. 

"The victory of New Orleans undoubtedly was a ground of Iiigh 
gloiy, not only to the individual who was at the head of our forces, but 
of glory to the nation itself. But, on account of that victory, were they 
to sanction acts which, in the pamphlet referred to by the gentleman 
from Kentucky, [Mr. Underwood,] were argued to be treason ; and 
were they not only to sanction, but to reward those acts on that ground? 
It reminded Mr. A. of an anecdote which he heard many years ago re- 
specting Gen. Arnold — a man very celebrated in the war of our revolu- 
tion. After his exploits in tliis country, (which were of two characters,) 
he went to England; and there, being an object of contempt to every- 
body he saw, and particularly to every American, he still sought the 
company of Americans who visited England after the close of the war, 
and in the course of a conversation he had with an American with whom 
he had been acquainted in this country before his treason and treachery, 
he asked him what the Americans would have done with him if they 
had caught him instead of Andre, or if Andre had been delivered up (as 
was proposed) for the purpose of having him ? Said the American, 



23 

^They would have buried that leg of yours which was mutilated in their 
service, with the honors of war, and they would have hung you for the 
umainder of your body.' That was the sort of justice which, compar- 
i.ively speaking-, would be more proper than that of his colleague, which 
was to reward General Jackson for imprisoning a judge because he had 
won the battle of New Orleans." 

1 will now sir, (if I can be pardoned by the House for tliis, to me, 
most unpleasant digression,) turn to Avhat I conceive the true merits of 
the question — the propriety of the declaration and enforcement of mar- 
tial law, by General Jackson, at New Orleans; Wlien I speak of mar- 
tial law, I will not be understood as meaning the law establishing rules 
and articles for tlie govei-nment of the army of the United States. That 
law is at all times in force, and acquires no new power from a simple 
declaration of that fact. I' mean that martial law of paramount control, 
as it is understood in all countries, and which may not unaptly l»e defin- 
ed "the common law of camps," springing out of, and commensurate 
with, the exigencies of armies in the field — exigencies which cannot be 
foreseen, and therefore cannot be guarded against in advance, by fixed 
legislation. That General Jackson had the constitutional power formal- 
ly to declare or enforce such a law — to supersede the civil for such mil- 
itary rule — I shall not contend for him; nor has he ever so contended 
for himself. If his justification is to be found at all — and that it is, I 
have no doubt — it must be sought for amidst the dangers and difficulties 
by which he found himself surrounded. I know, sir, there are some 
who would fain persuade the world that no alternative, however direful, 
can justify, or even excuse, a resort to such a course. 1 have now a 
pamphlet before me, signed "A Kentuckian," written with some ability, 
in which the author labors to enforce this doctrine. A single and a very 
short paragraph from this work vv^ill serve to show his position : 

"The great national interest with us — the great point of discipline — 
is, and ever must be, implicit and devoted obedience to the law." 

Based on this dogma, he labors to prove that, while Gen. Jackson was 
whipping the British, he was, in fact, levying war against his own coun- 
try — because he took the necessary measures to suppress mutiny and 
treason in his own camp ! — and winds up by saying, " 'Tis plain, unmit- 
igated treason." 

Who this learned gentleman is, I do not care to know. From his un- 
sparing bitterness, he might well be taken for some political renegade, 
vainly attempting to win the confidence of his new friends, by assailing 
the leader of his old ones. Certain I am he is no soldier, and knows 
nothing of the hardships or casualties of M^ar. If he did, he would also 
know that an army rarely marches by day, or halts by night, without 
necessarily breaking some law, or trampling on some right. It is more 
than probable this gentleman is some judge, or ex-judge, who, wrapping 
himself in his robes of office, and hugging to his heart this darling Uto- 
pia, "implicit obedience," fondly imagines he can convince the American 
people that it were infinitely better New Orleans had been sacked and 
burnt, than saved by martial law. This is but the doctrine attempted to 
be inculcated in ihe pamphlet referred to, when carried into practice ; 
and, whatever mav be thov.|rhf of it noy/, I have no doubt it would have 
4 



24 

been received with acclamation by the entire British army at the time. — 
In this shape, then, let it go before the world. I, at least, wiil waste no 
argument to prove its folly or its falsity. 

In 1844 the same experiment was made with Butler's popularity to 
carry the State for the democracy, as had succeeded in his congressional 
district. He was nominated as the democratic candidate for governor by 
the 8lh of January convention ; and there is good ground to believe that 
he would have been chosen over his estimable whig competitor, Gover- 
nor Owsley, but for the universal conviction throughout the State that 
the defeat of Mr. Clay's party, by the choice of a democratic governor 
in August, would have operated to injure Mr. Clay's prospects through- 
out the Union in the presidential election which followed immediately 
after, in November. With Mr. Clay's popularity, and the activity of all 
his friends — with the State pride so long exalted by the aspiration of 
giving a President to the Union — more eagerly than ever enlisted against 
the democracy, Col. Butler dimniislied the whig majority from twenty 
thousand to less than five thousand. 

The late military events with which Maj. Gen. Butler has been con- 
nected — in consequence of his elevation to that grade in 1846, with the 
view to the command of the volunteers raised to support Gen, Taylor in 
his invasion of Mexico — are so well known to the country, that minute 
recital is not necessary. He acted a very conspicuous part in the severe 
conflict at Monterey, and had, as second in command under Gen. Taylor, 
his full share in the arduous duties and responsibilities incurred in that 
important movement. The narrative of Major Thomas, senior assistant 
adjutant general of the army in Mexico, and hence assigned by General 
Taylor to the staff of General Butler, reports so plainly and modestly 
the part which General Butler performed in subjecting the city, that it 
may well stand for history. This passage is taken from it: '^The army 
arrived at their camp in the vicinity of Monterey about noon, September 
19. That afternoon the General endeavored by personal observation to 
get information of the enemy's position. He, like General Taylor, saw 
the importance of gaining the road to Saltillo, and fully favored the 
movement of General Worth's division to turn their left, &c. Worth 
marched Sunday, September 20, for this purpose ; thus leaving Twiggs' 
and Butler's divisions with Gen. Taylor. Gen. Butler was also in favor 
of throwing his division across the St. John's river, and approaching the 
town from the east, which was at first determined upon. This was 
changed, as it would leave but one, and perhaps the smallest division, to 
guard the camp and attack in front. The 20th, the General also recon- 
noitered the enemy's position. Early in the morning of the 21st the 
force was ordered out to create a diversion in favor of Worth, that he 
might gain his position; and before our division came within long range 
of the enemy's principal battery, the foot of Twigg's division had been 
ordered down to the northeast side of the town, to make an armed re- 
connoissance of the advanced battery, and to take it if it could be done 
without great loss. The vohmteer division was scarcely formed in rear 
of our howitzer and mortar battery — established the night previous, un- 
der cover of a rise of ground — before the infantry sent down to the 
northeast side of the town became closely and hotly engaged ; the batte- 



25 

ties of that division were sent down, and we were then ordered to sup- 
port the attack. Leaving the Kentucky regiment to support the mortar 
and howitzer battery, the General rapidly put in march, by a flank move- 
ment, the other three regiments, moving for some one and a half or two 
miles under a heaAy fire of round shot. As further ordered, the Ohio 
regiment was detached from Quitman's brigade, and led by the General 
(at this time accompanied by General Taylor) into the town. Quitman 
carried his brigade directly on the battery first attacked, and gallantly 
carried it. Before this, however, as we entered the suburbs, the chief 
engineer came up and advised us to withdraw, as the object of the at- 
tack had failed ; and if we moved on, we must meet with great loss. — 
The General was loath to fall back without consulting with General 
Taylor, which he did do — the General being but a short distance off. — - 
x\s we were withdrawing, news came that Quitman had carried the bat- 
tery, and General Butler led the Ohio regiment back to the town at a 
different point. In the street we became exposed to a line of batteries 
on the opposite side of a small stream, and also from a iete de pont 
(bridge-head) which enfiladed us. Our men fell rapidly as we moved up 
the street to get a position to charge the battery across the stream. Com- 
ing to a cross street, the General reconnoitered the position, and, determ- 
ining to charge from that point, sent me back a short distance to stop the 
firing, and advance the regiment with the bayonet. I had just left him, 
when he was struck in the leg, being on foot, and was obliged to leave 
the field." 

" On entering the town, the General and his troops became at once 
hotly engaged at short musket range. He had to make his reconnoissan- 
ces under heavy fire. This he did unflinchingly, and by exposing his 
person — on one occasion passing through a large gateway into a yard, 
which was entirely open to the enemy. When he was wounded, at the 
intersection of the two streets, he was exposed to a cross-fire of mus- 
ketry and grape." 

" In battle the General's bearing was truly that of a soldier ; and those 
under him felt the influence of his presence. He had the entire confidence 
of his men." 

The narrative of Major Thomas continues : 

" When Gen. Taylor went on his expedition to Victoria, m December, 
he placed General Butler in command of the troops left on the Rio 
Grande, and at the stations from the river on to Sal till o — Worth's small 
division of regulars being at the latter place. Gen. Wool's column had 
by this time reached Parras, one hundred or more miles west of Saltillo. 
Gen. Butler had so far recovered from his wound as to walk a little and 
take exercise on horseback, though with pain to his limb. One night 
(about the 19th December) an express came from Gen. Worth at Saltillo, 
stating that tlie Mexican forces were advancing in large numbers from 
San Louis de Potosi, and that lie expected to be attacked in two days. 
His division, all told, did not exceed 1,500 men, if so many, and he asked 
reinforcements. The General remained up during the balance of the 
night, sent off the necessary couriers to the rear for reinforcements, and 
had the 1st Kentucky and the 1st Ohio foot, then encamped three miles 
from town, in <]ie place Hv davli2:ht ; and these two regimpnt.s, with 



Webster's battery, were encamped that night ten miles on the road to 
Saltillo. This promptness enabled the General to make his second day's 
march of twenty-two miles in good season, and to hold the celebrated 
pass of Los Muertos, and clieck the enemy should he have attacked 
Gen. Worth on that day and obliged him to evacuate the town. Whilst 
on the next and last day's march, the General received notice that the 
reported advance of the enemy was untrue. Arriving at the camp- 
ground, the General suffered intense pain from his wound, and slept not 
during the night. This journey, over a rugged, mountainous road, and 
the exercise he took in examining the country for twenty miles in ad- 
vance of Saltillo, caused the great increase of pain now experienced." 

The major's account then goes on to relate Gen. Butler's proceedings 
while in command of all the forces after the junction of Generals Worth 
and Wool — his disposition to meet the threatened attack of Santa Anna 
— the defences created by him at Saltillo, and used during the attack at 
Buena Vista in dispersing IMinon's forces — his just treatment of the peo- 
ple of Saltillo, with the prudent and effectual precautions taken to make 
them passive in the event of Santa Anna's approach. It concludes by 
stating that all apprehensions of Santa Anna's advance subsiding. Gen. 
Butler returned to meet Gen. Taylor at Monterey, to report the condition 
of affairs ; and the latter, having taken the command at Saltillo, trans- 
mitted a leave of absence to Gen. Butler, to afford opportunity for the 
cure of his wound. 

This paper affords evidence of the kind feeling which subsisted be- 
tween the two generals during the campaign ; and this sentiment was 
strongly evinced by General Buder, on his arrival in Washington, where 
he spoke in the most exalted terms of the leader under whom he served. 

In person, Gen. Butler is tall, straight, and handsomely formed ; ex- 
ceedingly active and alert. His mien is inviting — his manners graceful — 
his gait and air military — his countenance frank and pleasing — the out- 
line of his features of the aquiline cast, thin and pointed in expression — 
the general contour of his head is Roman. 

The character of General Butler in private life is in fine keeping with 
that exhibited in his public career. In the domestic circle, care, kind- 
ness, assiduous activity in anticipating the wants of all around him — 
readiness to forego his own gratifications to gratify others, have become 
habits growing out of his affections. His love makes perpetual sunshine 
at his home. Among his neighbors, liberality, affability, and active sym- 
pathy mark his social intercourse, and unbending integrity and justice all 
# his dealings. His home is one of unpretending simplicity. It is too 
much the habit in Kentucky, with stern and fierce men, to carry their 
personal and political ends with a high hand. Gen. Butler, with all the 
masculine strength, courage, and reputation, to give success to attempts 
of this sort, never evinced the slightest disposition to indulge the power; 
whilst his well-known firmness always forbade such attempts on him. 
His life has been one of peace with all men, except the enemies of his 
country. 

Peace having been proclaimed between the United States and Mexico, 
General Butler returned home. During his sojourn at New Orleans, he 
was handsomely treated with a grand public reception, the subjoined ac- 



27 

count of which we extract from the N. Orleans DeUa of July„,22, 1848 : 

New Orleans was last evening the scene of one of the grandest, wildest, 
most numerous and enthusiastic popular displays we have ever witnessed. 
The democracy turned out in all the strength of their numbers, and in 
all the ardor and earnestness which characterize all their public demon- 
strations. For some time past it had been whispered about that the dem- 
ocrats had lost their old spirit and vigor, and would not enter this con- 
test with their accustomed enthusiasm. This suspicion, no doubt, con- 
tributed to bring them out on this occasion in all their numbers and pro- 
digious zeal. 

The occasion of this display was the reception of Gen. William O. 
Butler, on his return from the scenes of, the Mexican war. The councils 
having omitted to tender to" him the hospitalities oi' the city, the de- 
mocracy took fire at the alleged neglect, and determined to take the 
matter in their own hands. So the Democratic Central Committee set to 
work to give the General a democratic welcome. The arrangements 
were on a scale of great magnificence, but it was vain to attempt to curb 
or restrain the enthusiasm of the mass by any regulations or plans. The 
democracy were determined to have their own way and give full reins to 
their feelings. Programmes . and orders were all forgotten, and a wild 
tumultuous enthusiasm prevailed throughout the whole ceremony and 
procession. At dusk the crowd began to gather on Canal street, the 
scene of the great Taylor demonstration of last week. And here we 
must pay the whigs the compliment due to them for the courtesy and 
liberality which prompted them to tender to their democratic brethren the 
use of the platform erected by them for their meeting. On this platform 
the democrats had raised, at either side and in the centre, staffs, from 
which floated three beautiful flags of the stars and stripes. There were 
also on the platform a great variety of banners, transparencies, flags, and 
escutcheons, which we will notice more particularly when we come to 
describe the procession. 

At 7, the big-mouthed cannon of the veteran Major Gally's battalion 
began to bellow forth their loudest thunders, to the very great danger of 
the window-panes in the neighborhood. As soon as it was dark, rockets 
were let ofl"; and at this signal, a thousand torches, flambeaux, and trans- 
parencies were lighted up, and threw a bright glare over the dark masses 
which filled this wide street (it is 150 feet wide) as far as the eye could 
reach. A fine band discoursed most delightful and animating music on 
the platform, on which were assembled the marshals, the veterans of 1814 
and 1815, the oflicers of the army, and the bearers of the escutcheons 
of the thirty States of the Union. 

Presently a loud cheer came up from the foot of Canal street, and a 
long procession, preceded by a fine band of music, and bearing a forest 
of flags of all nations, and transparencies of every device, marched up 
the left side of the street. These were the democracy of the third mu- 
nicipality. They were closely followed by another large body of hardy, 
able-bodied, bold-looking men, bearing a banner inscribed with a picture 
of a ship on the stocks, and with various democratic mottoes. These 
were .the democratic ship-builders of Algiers. Then came a very large 
deputation from Lafayette, marshalled by that staunch democrat, Col. 



2g 

Isaac T. Preston. Next the indomitable Cul. High led the delegation 
from the patriotic town of Gretna. These various delegations fell into 
the vast assemblage, and continued to swell its prodigious volume. We 
think it w^ould not be extravagant to estimate the number on the ground 
at 20,000. Such was the estimate of a distinguished military gentleman 
whose opinion we asked on the subject. 

An escort of thirty-two young democrats, in red scarfs, under the able 
marshalship of Messrs. Perry and Avegno, were deputed to wait upon 
Gen. Butler, and accompany him to the place appointed for his reception. 
After some delay — during which the democracy amused themselves by 
loud huzzas, and various other modes of evincing their zeal and enthusi- 
asm — a stir in the vast crowd and the roar of the multitude announced 
the approach of the " guest of the democracy." It was terrible work to 
get the coach which bore the General through the crowd. It was drawn 
by four beautiful w^hite horses, whose gentleness and docility under such 
a prodigious uproar, excited our surprise and admiration. By dint of 
much coercion and striving of the marshals, the coach was finally drawn 
up in front of the stand. There were in the carriage with Gen. Butler, 
Gov. Isaac Johnson, Hon. Charles Gayarre, secretary of state, and Hon. 
Pierre Soule, senator elect. The General was in his undress uniform, 
with the belt and sash of the major general. He looked remarkably 
well. The crowai with one voice exclaimed, '^ How like he is to the 
glorious old Jackson !" 

The crowded and excited character of the assembly rendered it very 
difficult to preserve sufficient quiet and order for speaking. 

Mr. B. D. Howard, late captain of one of the companies of the 1st 
Mississippians, made the reception speech, which was as follows : 

Major General Butler : The pleasant duty has been assigned me, by 
the democracy of New Orleans, of tendering you, on their behalf, a cor- 
dial welcome to our city, on your return from Mexico, as the present 
general-in-chief of our triumphant army. 

True to the instinct of gallantry and patriotism which has so long 
distinguished your family, you were among the first of our citizen sol- 
diers to leave the comforts of home and peril your life to support the 
honor and arms of your country in a war commenced by the aggression 
of Mexico. 

Your return now, only wlien the gallant army which you conmiand, 
by deeds of noble daring which have excited the admiration of the world, 
has prostrated our enemies in the dust, and wrenched from their fears 
what we could not obtain from their justice — an honorable peace. 

Before you "hang up your bruised arms for monuments," and lay 
aside the sword, as we trust, forever, we seek to honor ourselves, as well 
as you, by giving you a cordial welcome to our city, and by testifying 
the gratitude which we feel, in common with the whole country, for the 
distinguished services you have rendered. Nor is this gratitude felt 
alone for the blood which you lost in the fierce conflict of Monterey. 
That is a debt which we owe only in common with the whole country. 
But as citizens of New Orleans we owe you a much older and higher 
debt of gratitude — a debt which is peculiarly our own — and which can 
only grow stronger by time, as one by one the heroes who defended us 
under the immortal .lackson take their flight to the world of spirits, 



29 

The 23(1 December, IS 14, was a dark and perilous hour to the citi- 
zens of New Orleans. Upon an issue of arms, between our undiscipHned 
but hardy soldiers and the tried and trained valor of outnumbering Bri- 
tish troops, who had tilled Europe with their fame, depended the sanctity 
of our homes — the safety of fond wives and fair daughters from the bru- 
tality of a licentiate, hireling soldiery, excited by conflict, and flushed 
with the exultation of victory. When that little band of our defenders, 
among whom you stood, paraded in the Place (P Armes — that little band 
upon whose valor all that was most dear to the citizens of New Orleans 
depended — there were anxious faces gathered around you — anxious and 
tearful faces turned upon you, and the stoutest heart may well throb with 
fmv and dread at the thought of the unequal conflict, and its possible re- 
sult. Our citizens could then only raise a deep silent prayer for God's 
blessing upon you, as they sent you forth their champions and defenders. 

You met the enemy and the world knows the history of that conflict. 
The soldiers who had faced the veterans of Napoleon till they fled, yield- 
ed to the unconquerable courage and energy of our countrymen ; and the 
laurels which your foes had won in the peninsular war, were torn off in 
the swamp of Chalmette, and wreathed upon American brows. 

In that conflict, where all were so distinguished, the regiment which 
you led in the absence of superior officers, won for itself great distinc- 
tion. 

Upon your reception among us now, it is fit that the faces which sur- 
round you, although not unmoved by emotion, should wear a different 
expression from those which surrounded you on the 23d of December, 
1814. Prosperity and peace are now smiling upon us, and respect and 
gratitude swell the heart, and glow in the features, and moisten the eye 
of every true-hearted citizen, when he hails you as one of our gallant 
defenders in that hour of dread and peril. And when you now return from 
another triumphant war, where you have won fresh laurels for yourself 
and your country, we recur to those earlier services, because in those 
the fame of our city is connected with yours ; because, in the battle 
which drove the insolent foe from our gates, you won great personal dis- 
tinction, the highest praise of your Hero General — praise which was ac- 
knowledged as just by the government of your country. 

I will not detain you to recount your still earlier services to our coun- 
try — at the battle of the river Raisin — your campaigns in our savage 
warfare, and throughout the then wilderness countiy of the northwest. 
Those services are now a part of our history, and are held in grateful re- 
membrance b}^ your country, from Maine to the Rio Grande. Nor will 
I refer to the great services of the distinguished family to which you be- 
long. Our praise can add nothing to the lustre of a name that has re- 
ceived commendation from a Jackson, a Lafayette and a Washington. 
There is one trait of your character, however, of which I heard much 
from brother soldiers with whom I served a brief campaign in Mexico, 
(although not myself a participator in the honors of that campaign,) of 
which you must permit me to speak briefly : I allude to your ever ready 
sympathy with the common soldier, and even with the helpless of our 
enemies. Although wounded and suffering yourself, you yet found many 
occasions, as the truly benevolent heart ever can, to alleviate the suffer- 



30 

ings of others. The destitute soldier, stricken down by disease, and 
pining for the affectionate attention of friends at his far distant home, 
never appealed to your sympathies in vain. Affectionate encouragement, 
and more substantial benefits, you were ever ready to bestow* Has it not 
been said truly, that 

" There is more 
Of honest fame in drying up a single tear 
Than shedding seas of gore." 

Most of the soldiers now under your command, who but a short time 
since, clothed in the panoply of war, were hurled a mass of living valor 
on the foe, are soon again to assume the peaceful garb of the citizen ; 
but still aiding to carry on their country to its great destiny, by the noise- 
less pursuit of individual happiness, surrounded by the endearments of 
home and family. 

This peaceful retirement, for which you have ever shown so strong a 
predilection, is not, however, destined for you. It is the perhaps unfor- 
fortunate fate of those who serve their country with most distinction and 
most patriotism, that they are, more often than others, called upon to 
sacrifice their individual interest and inclination to the public wish and 
the public welfare. It is because you have served your country so long 
and so well, that without your solicitation or knowledge, your democra- 
tic brethren of the whole Union, by a spontaneous and unanimous voice, 
have called upon you to be one of their standard-bearers in the approach- 
ing political campaign. Nor has this call been made from admiration of 
your political career alone, brilliant as it has been. The services which 
you are now called upon to render, are the services of a statesman. Your 
political principles have been long and well known to the whole country. 
Your voice has already been heard in the councils of the nation, and the 
history of your political life shows a firm, consistent adhesion to the 
great principles of democracy. In accordance with the time-honored usage 
of our party, we have inscribed those principles upon the banner which 
we ask you to carry on to victory. We would not insult the character 
for frankness and candor which are assumed as the hereditary virtues of 
a soldier, by asking you to carry a flag that would not desiginate on 
which side you are doing battle. But with those principles, upon the 
success of which we believe the welfare of our great republic depends, 
inscribed all over the ample folds of our banner, so that he who runs 
may read and understand, we propose, under your lead, to make a candid 
appeal to the intelligence of the American people for their support. With 
the good principles for which we contend, and under the lead of such 
men as Cass and Butler, our hearts have no taint of fear for the result, but 
are buoyant in the confidence of success to our cause, and of the continued 
prosperity and glory of our country. 

The multitude of friends around you are anxious to take you by the 
hand, in token of their cordial welcome and support. Nor is this feel- 
ing confined to the citizens of New Orleans. Warm hearts and extended 
hands are everywhere waiting to gi-eet you, as you return to your home. 
You once braved a shower of bullets from the whole line of British and 
Indian warriors to burn up a shelter Avhich the foes of your country were 



31 

about to occupy, and miraculously escaped without a single wound. In 
this continued fire of friendly greeting which you must soon encounter, 
we only hope that you may make an equally fortunate escape. 

Again we tender you a heart-warm welcome among us, and pray that 
the choicest blessings of Heaven may follow the patriot of two wars to 
the close of a greatly lengthened life of honor to himself, and continual 
usefulness to his country. 

The speaker was frequently interrupted during the delivery of this 
speech, by the most enthusiastic applause. 

Gen. Butler rose to reply. [We regret that we were unable to catch 
but a few sentences of his speech ; and these were of a character to 
make us desire to hear more. Gen. Butler is a graceful, easy, elegant, 
and fluent speaker.] He referred, with much emotion and felicity of 
language, to the great changes which had occurred since, almost a beard- 
less youth, he appeared in this great city, to participate in the glories of 
that campaign which had conferred so much honor and renown upon 
our country. He spoke most feelingly of the many friends who had 
shared with him the perils of that campaign, but who were now num- 
bered among the departed. He referred, in most eloquent terms, to the 
brilliant genius and burning patriotism of the old Hero, around w liom the 
chivalry of the country had gathered, to defend one of our noblest cities 
from pillage, and our country from dishonor. His great talents had re- 
duced chaos and confusion into order and system, and enabled the raw 
militia of America to triumph over the trained regulars of Europe. He 
next spoke briefly of the Mexican war, in which, he said, our rights had 
been secured, our injuries avenged, and a proud nation taught to respect 
our power and dignity. He had never stopped, when war was pro- 
claimed, to inquire into its justice. It was enough for him to know that 
it was his country's war, and that it was the duty of every son of the 
republic to offer his best services for her support and defence. The Gen- 
eral spoke in most graphic and beautiful terms of the glorious victories 
achieved by our army during that war. He then proceeded to explain his 
connexion with the peace and armistice, and to congratulate his fellow- 
citizens that so glorious a war had terminated in so honorable and satis- 
factory a peace. After thanking his democratic brethren at New Orleans 
for their kind reception extended to him, the General took his seat amid 
the wildest roar of shouts and applause of the multitude. 

The assembly was then formed into a procession, which we must 
in truth say had all the peculiarities of the democracy, in its tumul- 
tuous character and prodigious enthusiasm. First came the chief 
marshal, the veteran Colonel Peire, with a strong escort, all mount- 
ed; next a fine band of music; then sixteen young democrats, all 
mounted, and carrying transparencies inscribed with the names of Cass 
and Butler; then the open coach which bore the gallant General and his 
distinguished companions. On each side of the coach were mounted 
men with scarfs and torches, and behind it came sixteen young demo- 
crats with transparencies. Next came a long line of carriages, in which 
were the veterans of 1814 and '15, and the officers of the army. Fol- 
lowing these were two splendid and large transparencies, inscribed with 
the names of Cass and Butler, and with appropriate figures and mottoes. 



32 

That of Gen. Cass represented him as holding in one hand a protest 
against the Quintuple Alliance, with the other resting on a cannon. That 
of General Butler was a spirited picture of his celebrated exploit of 
burning the barn, and under it was written, "When I wanted a thmg 
done, I ordered a Butler to do it. — Lafayette.'^'* After these transparen- 
cies came the escutcheons of the several States, all illuminated, and borne 
by citizens of the several States ; and then came the people, the mass, in 
an interminable line. Scattered through the long line were several fine 
bands of music. There were myriads of transparencies, figures, devices, 
and banners, carried in the procession. We noticed a large banner of 
Ireland, thetri-color of France, of Spain, and even that of Mexico, which 
was borne by Mexicans who seek to become American citizens. The 
Democratic cock, which formed so prominent a feature in the procession 
of 1844, was also presented in a variety of shapes. We were amused at 
one picture, in which the "democratic bird" was represented as mounted 
on the eagle of Anahuac in a crowing attitude. Almost every trans- 
parency had the names of Cass and Butler, and the chief incidents of 
their lives, their principles, and sentiments, and those of the democratic 
party, were expressed in a thousand various forms and styles. But we' 
have neither time nor space to mention these devices. The procession 
moved through our principal streets, cheered at every step by the vast 
multitude which blocked up the streets, and greeted from every window 
and balcony by the waving of the handkerchiefs of the beauty of our 
city. General Butler received these civilities standing erect in the coach, 
and bowing with much grace and ease. We noticed Gen. Taylor stand- 
ing in one of the windows of the St. Charles. He was surrounded by 
his staff and a coterie of friends, and seemed to take much interest in the 
demonstration in honor of an old companion in arms. Finally, the pro- 
cession returned to the St. Charles, when Gen. Butler alighted and retired 
into the building, after three tremendous cheers from the vast crowd. 
The procession then broke up, and separated in great quiet and order. 
And thus ended the greatest civil parade and political demonstration, in 
point of numbers and enthusiasm, which we have ever witnessed in 
New Orleans. 



f^^^^;.^^ 



e)^ ^^.^TK. 



PRICE 15 CIS. 



THE LIFE 



AND 



PUBLIC SERVICES 



OF 



GEN. WILLIAM 0. BUTLER, 



BY 



FRANCIS P. BLAIR, 



WITH HIS LETTERS AND SPEECHES ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 



BALTIMORE: 

PUBLISHED BY N. HICKMAN 

B S T N— R EDDiNo & Co. 

PHIL .VDELPHI A— T. B. Petersow. 

1848. 



!6^ 



b 



Ncru Political lUorks 







The following valuable and cheap Poliiical Publications have just been 
issued. They are published at extremely low prices in order to give them 
an extended sale. 

Those to whom the "Political Gazette" is addressed are requested to ex- 
ert themselves in extending the sale of the publications. 

Postmasters, E'eriodical Agents, Dealers in Cheap Publications, Booksel- 
lers, &c., are allowed a handsome profit and can receive a handsome remu- 
neration by the sale of the Publications. 

Editors are requested to give as much publicity as possible to the publi- 
cation of these works, and by noticing ihem will be entitled to receive a copy 
of each. 

Under the late postage act, the postage on these publications is very 
trifling. 

Orders acc?)mpanied with the cash promptly attended to. 
Address, 

N. HICKMAN, Baltimore, Md. 

- LIFE OF GENERAL CASS. 

The Life and Public Services of General Lewis Cass, with his letters and 
speeches on various subjects, embellished with a splendid mezzotint en- 
graved portrait. 

The Washington Union in noticing this work says: "It is the only com- 
plete edition ever issued and contains information relative to the public and 
private life of General Cass never before published.'^ 

Single copies 25 cents. Five copies for one dollar. $16 per hundred. 

THE NEW TARIFF. 

The New Tariff, arranged in alphabetical order, with a history of the pro- 
ceedings connected with the passage of the act ; the new Warehousing 
Bill, and the value of Foreign Moneys as estimated at the Custom House 
by t late act of Congress. 

Single copies 12| cents. Ten copies for one dollar. 

THE DEMOCRATIC TEXT BOOK. 

The Democratic Text Book being a compendium of the principles of the 
Democratic party on the various political questions of the day. It contains 
contributions from the ablest pens of the country, on the "Mexican War," 
"Constitutional Treasury," "The Tariff," "Veto," &c. 

Single copies, 12g cents. Ten copies for $1. $8 per hundred. 

THE POLITICIAN'S REGISTER. 

The Politician's Register and Statistical Manual, containing among other 
useful political matter, the following: , 

I. Election returns for the last four years, for President, Governors, Con- 
gress, &c., in every State, by counties, alphabetically arranged. 

II. Times of holding Elections. 

III. List of the members of Congress and Governors of the States. 

IV. Digest of the Naturalization Laws. 

V. Table showing the value of Foreign Coins, Weights and Measures. 

VI. Exports of the United States, Executive Calendar, Presidential Elec- 
tors, &c. 

Single copies, 121 cents. Ten copies for ^l. $8 per hundred. 

PORTRAIT OF GENERAL CASS. 

Just issued, a handsom.e mezzotint engraved portrait of General Cass. It 
is decidedly the best one issued, and is a capital likeness. It can be sent by 
mail perfectly safe. & 

Single copies 25 cents. 5 copies for SI. S 16 per hundred. Q 
y80^ 



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